Xandrew: The Epic
by mandez.the.pandez
Summary: Ever wondered how Xandra and Andrew met? Of course you have; they are the perfect couple. Enclosed here is their story.
1. Alex's Original: It Started Witha Hug

This is mostly for my own enjoyment, but a lot of you were curious as to how Andrew and I met, here is my side of the story.

My Sophomore year, his freshman year. We were both put into Mrs. Reed's geometry class. The very first day we all got papers that had on it a version of human bingo. Who had been out of the country? Who is left handed? Who can play an instrument? We all had to talk to people to see who could sign what for us. Well, there was Andrew. The first words he said to me (and, for the life of me I can't remember this, he doesn't though...for some strange reason...) "Hi, What's your name?"  
I know, not amazing. not unique. He didn't exactly sweep me off my feet, or take my breath away. But give him time, he has improved.

A few weeks later, I take it upon myself to change the seating chart. I started sitting at Jon's table (which also happened to be the table Andrew was sitting at). Jon and I BSed back and forth. Constant play fighting, that game that middle schoolers and lower classmen enjoy.  
Now, your job, ask Andrew what he thought of me when we first met. His answer? I was a druggie. I was hyper and had dark circles under my eyes (Which I ALWAYS have...thank mom...)  
I remember the first day I sat with them, he was wearing his tan shirt. And also his glasses (Oh I miss those glasses :[ )

So fast forward to the state championship football game. Andrew and I are both in pep band here. He is wearing his gray hoodie (and his glasses!) We score the winning touchdown and win the game! OH CHEER! OH YAY!  
Here is where a part of me clicks. With each of us having a sax in one hand we reach for a sideways hug. My arm across hi back, his across my shoulders. My head fits on his shoulder and his lead lays on top of mine.  
It just clicked.  
We fit so well together. No weird blunders of which arm goes where. no clunking of our heads. No awkwardness. We just. Fit.

Now speed over troubled times and heart break.

During spring break in California. The hurt was still fresh in both of us. I had broken up with him and I didn't know why. I wanted him back, but he was more hurt than I was. So I was convincing myself that I needed to move on. I try and I try. But I was jealous. He was flirting with other girls right in front of me. It stung and stabbed all at once.  
So we talked. Just about every night. We were down in the hallway next to the pool when I was finally able to look at him and not feel anything.  
Finally. I was able to do it  
I HAD GOTTEN OVER HIM!  
YES!  
I can make myself do that. I was finally over and done with, but sad I was leaving it all behind.  
I let a single show of emotion roll down my face  
but they wouldn't end. They knew that I was torturing myself by trying to make myself forget about him and move on.  
Then he did it.  
He did the worst thing he could have done at that moment in time. If he would have know what act he was about to commit, he would have not done it back then. Though now, I don't think he can argue with the results.

He hugged me.

Not just a hug. He held me until my tears had stopped falling. He held on until the hurt was gone.  
But it only began anew.

There I was. In the arms of someone I shouldn't love, but I had fallen for him all over again. From that day on I vowed to make it known that I liked him. I began to chase him, began to woe him. I made it no secret.

And I guess I just eventually wore him down...

And at first it was tough. He learned from his past and didn't think it would last. Memories teach about what not to repeat and he was pulling away because he didn't want to get hurt again. He knew, from the past, that it wouldn't work out. He was hesitant and held me at a distance. Though, I eventually wore him down there too.  
And now, we're happy. We're as perfect as two measly humans and be, and we plan to stay like this as long as life lets us.


	2. 1: At Her Wedding Reception

Everyone crowded around Xandra, on their knees, clutching at the hem of her glorious green wedding gown passionately, the light of a thousand eager suns in their eyes. 'Please Xandra,' they all pled in unison; 'tell us! Tell us how you and Andrew met!'  
'Oh,' said Xandra demurely, fluttering her eyelashes so beautifully that a whirlwind picked everyone at the reception up and then set them down gently. 'It isn't that spectacular.' But everyone knew she was just being modest; it really was spectacular, like so much in her life, and they coaxed her some more.  
'Well,' said Xandra after a while; 'all right. But I promise you it isn't as great as you think it is.'  
'I'll bet it is,' said stupid, awful Sarah excitedly. 'Tell us. We love your stories. I was mean to you all those years because I'm jealous of your beauty and talent.'  
'And I'm in love with you,' said Michael. Then he blushed, covered his mouth, and ran away.  
Xandra laughed jubilantly.  
Kamen had tears in his eyes, and was eyeing the ring he had bought for Xandra, before Andrew had proposed. He knew how Michael felt. So did Will, who had stopped being gay, to pursue her hand in marriage, the year before.  
'Please tell us,' they said halfheartedly.  
Xandra cleared her throat, as if it needed clearing, and began to tell her romantic tale.


	3. 2: Andrew Makes a Mistake

It all began in high school, of course. My sophomore year, his freshman year. Both put into Mrs. Reed's 'Geometry and Lovemaking 101,' we ended up sitting together. I knew immediately that he had fallen for me; and who could blame him? But I was with another man: the incredibly seductive Eric Noto.  
He had stolen my mind and my heart, and I, at that time when I met Andrew, was engaged in a battle with him. He wanted to have an S&M orgy with everyone in the school, and I wasn't yet ready to have sex. The truth was that I wasn't sure if I loved him. But Andrew didn't know that. He couldn't have known that. All he knew was that I told everyone I knew I had a boyfriend, so that they wouldn't come on to me, like everyone always does. Monogamy is very important to me, except for when it isn't, so I had my mind set on being faithful to Eric, no matter the temptation.  
As the days went by, it became clear that Andrew loved me and wanted me passionately. 'I know you have a boyfriend,' he would whisper into the perfect, pink shell of my ear during class, 'but I don't know how much longer I can hold back my feelings for you.'  
'You know I can't be with you,' I would tell him, but I knew that I could. I could easily break up with Eric to be with Andrew; then, if I didn't like Andrew, I could dump him and get back with Eric. It was so simple. Could I hurt Eric like that? I didn't care. But could I find the words to say it? I didn't think I could.  
One day, Eric and I were dancing during lunch, on top of the lunch table. Instead of playing music to dance to, I was singing. My beautiful voice filled the room, and made everyone around me fall quiet, the girls wishing they were me, and the boys wishing they had me. I decided to sing to Eric how I felt; the only way I can express myself is unconventionally. It's a curse.  
I began to sing this improvised song:

_You are my knight, and I am your princess  
But sometimes a princess needs  
More than a knight and more than you  
Can I be with Andrew instead, please? _

Because the meaning of the song was so obscure, he didn't understand. He misunderstood my meaning, thinking I was telling him I loved him and wanted to have the orgy after all! He forced a French kiss on me, telling me to take my pants off.  
'No,' I whispered, afraid.  
I began to sing again:

_No, don't make me sleep with your friends.  
I don't want to have an orgy.  
I think we should break up instead;  
I think that you're too horny! _

Eric understood this time. He became angry. 'I think we should fuck everyone in the school,' he bellowed moistly in my face; flecks of his lunch, chili con carne, spattered my beautiful face, ruining the glits of shine that I secrete from my beautiful eyelashes. I fell down on the table.  
'Someone please help me!' I cried.  
That was when he appeared. Andrew, like a shining knight from the cover of a little-known romance novel, his chest bare and glistening with oil, sweat, and the tears of the women he'd just rejected for my sake, planted his leather boot—which he had made himself, by hand, from the hide of a unicorn—on the lunch table, directly next to my head. My heart pounded so loudly and beautifully that the lunch lady began to weep. Tears of envy.  
'Andrew,' I said throatily; I knew instantly that I was now ready to have sex, but only with one man. That man was beside me now, accusing Eric of being unfaithful and cruel to his bride—me. The thought of being Eric's bride made me want to vomit all over Eric's face and neck, encasing his whole head in my own disgust for him; however, I repressed this desire and instead reached out my hand, for Andrew to take in his. He couldn't take me hand, though; he was challenging Eric to a battle.  
The winner, he exclaimed, his index finger directed at the heavens, would receive my hand and heart in matrimony. Despite my passionate desire for him and his loins, this made my blood boil. 'No,' I whispered. My murmur was so ardent that the screaming between the two men ceased immediately. The room was silent enough to hear a mouse fart. 'No,' I said again, loudly. 'No man shall win me, as if I were some kind of prize,' I bellowed. 'I will fight for my own honour.' I gave Andrew the iciest look I could conjure. I saw my splendid reflection in his glasses, and felt a chill; I ignored it and told him, 'And afterwards?' I glared. 'I'm leaving. Alone.'


	4. 3: Jon Exposes Himself

After waiting forty-five minutes for everyone to stop wailing in terror that Andrew and Xandra would not get together after all, Xandra gently reminded them that she was now married. Her decorous honesty made everyone present feel blessed by her existence. After silence had returned once again, Sarah gave a distraught hiccup.  
'But why?' she asked fervently. 'You two are meant to be together!'  
'Just like you're meant to be onstage,' said everyone else reverently, in union.  
'And in a poster on the ceiling above my bed,' whispered Jon.  
Shaking her head slowly and beautifully, Xandra began to scale the tree under which they were all seated. Everyone chuckled knowingly and watched her. From the treetop, she said lyrically, 'Would you all like me to continue or not?'  
'Yes!' cried everyone tearfully, including Beth, who hadn't been invited, but was standing outside the locked gate to the courtyard. 'Please go on!'  
'I must know,' Sarah hissed.  
Xandra's wink instantly ended poverty all over the world. 'All right,' she said.

I defeated Eric, of course, and he fled the scene bawling like an ugly, fat, retarded toddler with too much estrogen. My hair flowed in the wind, dazzling everyone, as I stood on the lunch table. The entire school's zealous approval of my womanly strength swelled around me, and Andrew hung his head in shame. A single tear shone on his cheek, and I turned and fled, to the one place where I feel at home: the auditorium. First I danced a few numbers on the empty stage, the bright, hot lights filling me with a feeling of relaxation and passion. Then, I climbed up onto the catwalks, where I leaned wonderfully against the railing, fingering my bare collarbone thoughtfully.  
I was so confused and hurt. I had thought Andrew was my one and only love. The four days we had spent getting to know each other were precious to me, and I simply couldn't fathom how he could have made such an erroneous judgment in how to treat me. I began to weep.  
'You look ravishing, Xandra,' I heard someone whisper from behind me.  
Startled, I whipped around to see Andrew walking down the catwalk. I expected him to stop and hold my hand, to beg for forgiveness. I looked away, prepared to play Hard To Get, like always; but this time, he didn't play along. I waited, and when I heard nothing, I looked back. There was no one.  
He had gone.  
I spent the next three days in a stupor. The next day we avoided each other, and then I went to four birthday parties and a theme party over the weekend—more people vying passionately for a piece of the Xandra Pie. I didn't see Andrew again until Monday, when I walked into the class we had together, first period. The way I flounced into the classroom was so breathtaking that our teacher cancelled class. I turned to leave, and ran head-on into Jon.  
'Oh,' I said.  
'Xandra,' said he. He reddened, embarrassed by his blunder in my presence. 'I… Xandra, I've been meaning to ask you something.'  
I knew he was going to ask me to Prom. Suddenly, I understood. I began to panic, looking for a way out; it was fortunate for me that he gave me a way out on his own. In his own moment of panic, he babbled, 'S-suck my dick!'  
I pretended to be offended by his Freudian slip, when in reality I was flattered deeply.  
'Uh! I mean! That isn't!' Jon cried, turning redder and redder by the second. Then, he made a terrible squeaky noise and peed all over the floor. Suddenly disgusted by him, I screamed.  
Everyone laughed. I was distraught.  
The only one who came to my aid, to rescue me from the piss, was Andrew. He swept me up in his arms, punched Jon in the face, and briskly escaped with me. Where was he taking me? What would he say? How would I feel about his words? At the moment, I was simply grateful to escape Jon's horrendous 'outburst.'


	5. 4: Shut up, Jon

'I remember that,' said Jon woefully, streaks of embarrassment upon his face. His head hung so low that his chin dug harshly into his chest, and Xandra's magnificent, heartwarming laughter rang out; all the closed buds in the tree suddenly bloomed in full, and ladybugs and butterflies swarmed everyone.  
'You're embarrassed!' she cried with glee. Jon nodded. 'How odd,' Xandra muttered to herself; 'that others so often think their feelings matter.' She wondered how to make people stop telling her about their emotions, as if they were real. Then, she clapped her hands. 'Well! Raise your hand if you want to hear the next part of the story.'  
Everyone within a fifty-six kilometer radius shot both of their hands into the air without even a moment's hesitation, and Xandra struck a spectacular pose in the tree, prepared to continue.


	6. 5: Shut up, Jew

He stopped running finally, on top of a mountain. Snow whirled about us densely, and the only sound that could be heard was Andrew's slow and steady breathing. I was so stunning that the sun became jealous and set; the moon rose and shone a single spotlight on my perfect face. I felt a small chill, and Andrew wrapped two blankets around me without setting me down. I thought about asking him how he did that, but I got bored before I could find the words.  
'Andrew,' I said carefully. I knew how my rejection had ravaged him inside; I read his diary whenever he wasn't looking, and the pages were riddled with words of heartbreak, depression, and never returning to normal life. I decided then that I would give him a second chance; after all, it wouldn't be the first time that I put a boyfriend on the probation leash. 'Andrew, I think we should be together.'  
'I'm sorry, Xandra,' he said.  
'I know you are,' I replied lightly.  
'No,' he interjected. 'I mean I'm sorry, but… I've decided I don't love you.'  
The words did not compute. This was the first man who had ever dared to reject me; everyone around me fell in love with me the instant I walked into the room. The moment I began to dance, they were my love slaves, forever. Not only had Andrew and I been in the same room before, but he had seen me dance, that day in the cafeteria. I didn't understand; the only explanation would be that he had no soul, and I could see that he had a soul in his eyes. His soul was that of a dragon—quiet, fierce, and in love with me.  
'What do you mean?' I demanded of him.  
He set me down gently in the snow. 'I'm sorry,' he said again, his breath clouding the air before us. The steam formed a wall between us, and I wanted to stop his breathing so I could see his face more clearly. 'But I'm with another girl now.'  
'Who?'  
'The dark-haired girl who sits by me in math.'  
'The Jew?' I bellowed. 'But I'm German! Can't you see how this hurts me?' But he was gone. Like a ninja, he had simply vanished. I released such a hysterical wail that every child in Florida simultaneously became an orphan.  
I lived in a cloud of sadness and disbelief for the rest of the week. The image of his gleaming, handsome face obstinately refused to leave my mind. I wore only black and dyed my shining, red hair a blue-black hue, and I spent every class period curled up and sobbing at my desk. Andrew never made eye contact. That whore spent every second she could in Andrew's lap, whispering stupidities in his ear (she was trying to speak German, which I'm fluent in, so I knew she was wrong). That Jewish jezebel had stolen my man, and I knew that I would have to do something about it.  
On the performing arts trip to California, I signed up to room with her. Stupid Beth tagged along, but I ignored her the whole time. I sat the girl down, and put my sweet face on. Then, on command, I began to sob. My thick, black eyeliner streaked down my cheeks.  
'Oh, jewzebel,' I wailed; 'I'm heartbroken.'  
'Why?' she asked, her horrible, Semitic face contracting into what I had to assume was compassion.  
'I'm madly in love,' I told her. 'I have fallen into an unrequited relationship with a man.'  
'Who?' she squeaked. She looked like a rodent, and I wanted to hit her and yell at her for existing.  
'Andrew,' I said, lifting a Kleenex theatrically to my alabaster-smooth cheek. 'Every moment he is with you is excruciating. Surely you of all people, with your vision-correcting glasses and hooked nose curving out of the way of your eyes, can clearly see that he is too good for you, both in looks and in soul.'  
The Semitic skank seemed confused at first; I gave another soul-shattering moan, and the Jewish sympathy returned. She reached out and snatched up my hands—it was all I could do to keep from retching into her open mouth—and whispered to me that everything would be okay.  
'I'll tell Andrew we're through. And then you two can be together,' she said.  
I knew this already; the fact that she was telling me this was insulting and stupid. Of course, being the caring and generous person I am, I told her kindly that even though she was a dirty Jew, she was less dirty than some of the other Jews. The lie tasted bad in my mouth. But what could I do?  
After the Jew broke the news to Andrew, he approached me in the hotel hallway, as planned. I had dyed my hair blonde and made myself a new bathing suit out of maple and aspen leaves in preparation for this meeting. I lied seductively on the floor of the hallway, caressing the length of my leg sensually.  
'Xandra, did you tell my girlfriend to break up with me?' he asked.  
I fluttered my eyelashes. 'I had no choice,' I said. 'Imagine your wondrous good looks reflected in your posterity, ruined by disgusting Jew fros and thick eyebrows!'  
'You had no call to do that, Xandra,' he snapped.  
I remained silent for the moment.  
'I mean, how could you?' he asked. 'How could you have the audacity to tell my girlfriend to break up with me, when _I_ was the one who rejected _you_?'  
'Andrew,' I said.  
'No. No, it's too late. We can never be together now,' said Andrew sharply.  
Tears welled in my eyes. 'What are you saying, Andrew?' I asked, my voice shaking.  
'I'm saying,' he said, breathing heavily. 'I'm saying…' A single tear began to roll down my cheek. 'I'm saying I love you, Xandra!'  
His deep voice echoed about the hallway, and I was stunned. 'I love you, too, Andrew,' I whispered.  
We kissed. One single, superb kiss to sum up our feelings for one another. I wished it would last forever, and tears of joy slid down my cheeks, one by one by one.  
Our lips parted. 'Xandra, will you be my girlfriend?' he asked respectfully.  
'Yes,' I cried.  
We enveloped each other in another kiss, our first as the newest 'it' couple at Ostentatiousview High School, and had we an audience, they would have been applauding madly. We separated, and he looked at me, his chiseled face reflecting such satisfaction that I felt warmth on my face. I sat in his glow for a brief, perfect moment… Suddenly I was terribly bored.  
I turned away from him, in tears, and ran to my room.


	7. 6: Dear Diary

_Dear Diary, _

_I am mi own women! I do'nt ned a man, to cage me in, in order to fell worty of my self. I am strong, and indepandant, and the most beatifull dancer in all of America (USA). This hour we have spent going out ways on my sole, excrushatingally crushing every thing about my creativity. Sudenally I couldn't be my self. I had to change the way I dressed. I had to change the way I acted.  
I wrote this poem about how I feel: _

_I'm not lying, or at least I wasn't at first.  
I change, I flit, I run, I dash, I'm never still or constant.  
So when my face looked to him, so full of love, I ment it. But then I had to keep that face. So it froze. It was frozen for so long, I could't take it off, and play with it, and be seprate from it, even if for just short amounts of time.  
But now I'm forced to wear this ice mask, not just infront of him, but every one.  
He's wearing no mask, his face is still as warm as the day he first saw me.  
Lucky bastard  
But yet again unlucky.  
I'm going to rip out of him again. Take a small peice of his heart with me. I think it will hurt me more then him.  
darn  
Every time I see him, every time I talk to him the mask, grows. Thicker, longer harder.  
but yet...  
if I aim just right... I can shatter the ice forever. No more faking, no more falling. No more him.  
I hope._

_That was my poem. I am going to brake up with him. It is going to end tonite. _

Xandra looked brilliantly up from her leatherbound journal to see her audience in silent tears, shaking. In the silence, she soberly closed the diary and closed her eyes, waiting for the response. It came promptly in the form of stupid Sarah bawling like a horrible baby.  
'That was the most beautiful poem I have ever heard,' Sarah managed through her sobs.  
'Well, I know,' said Xandra, tossing her curls. The scent that flowed gently from her tresses put all the men in the country into a coma. In a delirious state, Jon moaned up at her flawless countenance, admiring her. Her eyebrows peaked beautifully, arching above her dreamy emerald eyes; her lashes curved out into space, and were so long, thick, and sooty that with every blink she caused a breeze that made the trees shake their leaves tenderly. Her teeth gleamed whiter than the puffiest of springtime clouds; her lips were thin, but plump, pink. Her voice, her dulcet voice, wrapped around him like a soft blanket, cradling him, and he lost consciousness.  
'Should I continue?' she asked the mostly cognizant females that remained upright.  
'Should we wait for the guys to wake up?' asked someone in the back that Xandra did not recognise. After all, she hadn't been in charge of her wedding invitations; she just asked Andrew to invite all of her best friends (Sarah had bribed Andrew). She decided, to be nice, she would double-check who this person was, as a memory refresher.  
Xandra cocked a sexy eyebrow. 'Who are you?'  
'I'm Justine,' lied the girl, her hideous smile dropping.  
The name rang a small bell, but Xandra wasn't getting any definite recall. She narrowed her eyes provocatively, her beauty asking the questions for her.  
'We roomed together in college…' the girl went on. Xandra knew this wasn't true; she would have remembered that. 'You told everyone I was your sister…' Xandra shrugged, not sure why this monster was telling her such dishonesties. The girl continued rather sharply, 'I didn't tell your parents about all the things you did in high school and college without being married.'  
'Not ringing a bell,' Xandra said, mildly peeved at the slanders this girl was spreading; 'and I don't know what you're referring to. I am virtuous. My parents bought me four SUVs because I was a good daughter.'  
'Fuck you,' spat Justine. What a horrible girl.  
'Well, I know I must be awesome if girls that I don't even know hate me! Anyway, so where was I?' Xandra asked, her radiance flowing from her like steam from a freshly-baked honey bun. Her self-confidence and wit made everyone smile sincerely.  
'You left Andrew and ran to your hotel room!' everyone but Justine, who crossed her troll arms and pouted, chorused.  
'Well,' began Xandra, au fait and congruous. 'Let us continue.'


	8. 7: He's thirteen

I was trapped. Everywhere I looked, I saw a reminder of my prison-like relationship. My own talent and beauty was never enough. I stood before the mirror in the hotel restroom, gazing, searching.  
I was suddenly deeply, passionately inspired.  
'Mirror, mirror, on the wall.  
How could Andrew have the gall  
To love me and thus leave me dead?  
I would like to give him head.'  
But I knew he would never go for it; Andrew was a devout Christian, and had insisted more than once that he intended to wait for sex until marriage. Meanwhile, now that I had decided I was ready, sex was all I thought about. I needed to distract myself, so I threw myself headfirst into a friendship with the girl I had barred from interaction with Andrew not long before—the Jew. Apparently she was called Holly by the people who were able to look past her horrible, Semitic nose long enough to enjoy her personality (which could be likened to a spitting, pus-filled bowel boil) and though it was difficult, I made a point of calling her name in my ringing voice whenever I saw Andrew approaching, so I could avoid him while I plotted. How could I make him sleep with me? How could I get him to unlock the door to his powerful loins? I decided to entrust my heart's deepest desires to the person I trusted most in the world: the guy working the churro stand by the Indiana Jones ride who seemed sort of into me.  
'Kevin,' I sighed, heaving the whole of my weight onto the booth behind which he stood, dazed by my beauty. 'Are you…' I blushed prettily. '…a virgin?'  
He blinked a blink that lasted a thousand suns, and then he said, 'No.'  
'Tell-me-how-she-got-you-to-do-it,' I said in my signature fast-talking that made everyone laugh. Kevin was no exception, though he did have one of those faces that doesn't move at all, and one of those laughs that is totally silent, and you just have to know it's happening. One of those. I grinned at him warmly, expectantly.  
His lips didn't part, because they were perpetually parted, but he spoke. 'Huh?'  
I flicked my eyes upward in an eyeroll that was more of a 'silly me,' and repeated my question, slower, and then waited for the inevitable 'Ohhh!' that typically followed my quick-speak translations. He did it in his head instead, though. 'You saying your boyfriend won't put out?' he asked incredulously.  
'He's the man of my dreams, the only one for me,' I told him, taking a big bite out of my seventh cotton candy, 'only he doesn't want the same things I do or understand why I want them.'  
'He doesn't get you,' Kevin said to me as he handed a wilted churro to a child with ketchup on his eyelid. 'You need to educate him.'  
I watched the condiment-smeared babe's mother produce a wrinkled twenty with a crude mustache inked onto the face of Randy Jackson, the old president guy on the front, while I thought Churro Kevin's wise words over. 'So you're saying I need to show him what he's missing,' I said.  
'Yeah,' Kevin replied, leisurely counting the woman's change for her.  
'And to do that I need to show him my naked body,' I concluded aloud, in my quirkily outspoken way. The woman acted indignant, and her mouth fell wide open like she was going to inhale and vacuum me up. It took me a moment to realise she was angry because of her child's presence, so I winked at her and told the filthy munchkin, 'Don't do it 'til you're married! Abstinence is _fab_-stinence. '  
She took hold of his grubby arm and charged off with him in tow, and I smiled at Kevin, who shrugged and put her change back in his drawer. Though it didn't show on his face, I could see the gleam of affection for me in his understated eyes. 'Kevin,' I said softly, letting my eyes fall shut. 'We can't.'  
Kevin said nothing, most likely filled with whirling thoughts and emotions, his mind as turbulent as a wind tunnel, or something equally turbulent. 'I'm with someone else, Kevin,' I whispered. His sheer, raw pain encased his whole being so thickly then that I had to back away to give it room to fester. 'I'm sorry,' I breathed, and as I wheeled and tore away from that area of the theme park I realised it was the first time I had ever used those words.

Across the street from Disney Land was a club called Club-a-Dub-Dub. I had only turned sixteen that year, so I wasn't allowed in, but that didn't stop me and everyone with us from going in anyway. I've always believed it's better to ask for forgiveness than for permission. It was my rebellious streak, which was as bright and unignorable as the gleam in my knowing eyes, but as subtle and discreet as my sense of humour. The club was unlike any other (and was therefore perfect for me to enter); in the center of the enormous room was the typical dance floor, with its whirling lights of many colours and gyrating people, but around the edges of the room were hot tubs, which actually looked like bathtubs. In order to get in, you had to dress like you were about to take a bubble bath, so I had a towel turban on my head and wore a towel on my body. Everyone else typically wore clothes under their towels, but they were nowhere near as daring as I. I accepted a martini in a rubber-ducky-shaped glass and began to jam coolly under the center spotlight, waiting to gather everyone's attention. I needed to think, to gather my thoughts on how to, as Kevin had suggested, "show Andrew what he was missing," and where else to do that but in my home—a dance floor?  
There I was, iridescent drink sparkling in my hand, heart-stopping hips swaying, when all of a sudden I heard a voice to my left.  
'Hi, what's your name, pretty lady?'  
I pirouetted about to see who had spoken to me and laid eyes upon a warm, genuine young man, dancing lightly and smiling at me with a big old smile, like I was his baby. 'Xandra,' I said, returning his smile and making sure he noticed me checking him out. 'Yours?'  
'Xander,' he said, eyebrows raised, and we laughed together, like two happy people on a dance floor.  
'What are the odds?' I asked, swiveling a little closer to him.  
'What are the odds indeed,' he said, moving closer to me.  
Suddenly, we were making out. The music began pumping harder, like I wished he would, and the lights began to strobe wildly, making me feel as if this weren't real life, but only a fantasy. Finally, the song ending compelled Xander to withdraw his tongue from my mouth, like a sword from its scabbard, and gaze upon me with rampant satisfaction. 'Be mine, Xandra,' he said huskily.  
'I,' I said passionately. 'I…'  
Suddenly I felt a large hand on my wrist. 'Xandra?' It was Andrew. I gazed hard into his eyes, which had grown cold. 'I take you back and the first thing you do is make out with some kid in a club?' I flicked my eyes over at Xander, who shuffled his feet sheepishly in the presence of Andrew.  
'Take me back,' I hissed at Andrew, livid that he was chastising me in front of Xander's smoldering eyes. '_I_ took _you_ back, Andrew Glenn.'  
'That's not the _point_, Xandra!' Andrew hollered. 'You _cheated_ on me!'  
'Andrew, it was just a kiss,' I cried, rolling my vibrant eyes. 'Xander's just a friend.' Xander hung his head and backed away. 'Xander,' I called as he slunk into the shadows. 'Xander, come back.' He was gone.


	9. 8: Space Battle :Guest Author:

Suddenly, the lights went out. Andrew looked around, possibly to ward off a potential assassination attempt, which he undoubtedly dealt with on a regular basis, but alas the darkness was complete. The music had stopped too, which was why I was upset. This was my home! The dance floor was a place in which there could be no silence. Unless, of course, it was time for a dance-off with a dramatic entrance.

Cue the spotlight- but not on me!

Guests at the wedding audibly gasped. Old women sitting in the bleachers fainted, a couple whispering loudly to each other. Someone smashed a stained glass window of a nearby church and jumped in, fleeing the story before he was consumed with even more rage. Xandra sighed and shook her head. "Don't worry. It turns out all right in the end!" she chastised the impatient and dramatic crowd of worshippers.

Several small children watching the story unfold on national television sighed and just fell asleep right then, but their bodies were too involved with the story's progression to allow them to sleep into unconsciousness, and so their eyes and minds kept watching and taking in the beauty, the wonder, the epic. Their souls weaved into a basket of energy around the planet, which blocked out the sunlight, but a smile from Xandra was all it took to break apart the rapture and return everyone to their seats.

Andrew, a mysterious ninja from another world, now husband to the impossibly perfect Xandra, chopped some wood nervously in the corner with the groomsmen and his best man. They talked quietly about sports or something.

The story continued at last, allowing everyone to stop holding their breath.

The spotlight shone on one woman, an imperfect mass of idiocy: ugliness embodied. She was like a monster trapped in the shell of a teenage girl but whose presence was so powerful that it had decayed the chassis of the human girl from within, transforming her into the worst, the ultimate enemy of the perfect warrior of the soul and of music and dance. She was the Jew to my German. It was Holly.

Everyone on the dance floor just backed away like frightened mules, and who could blame them? I would have been taken aback as well had I not been in Andrew's steadying presence.

"I will show you!" she shouted, her horrible nasally voice echoing throughout the club like airhorn being blown into one's ear. "I must prove myself! To my man!"

Her grammar was astoundingly offensive to my grammar nazi ears. Having been brought up by a master Englishwomangerman, I knew exactly how best to word everything. "Best step off, bitch!" I challenged, winning titters and heart flutters from all those around. Even Andrew scoffed at Holly; he knew this was no real duel. But to me, the dance floor is all that matters in a world of broken dreams and ripped seams. Write that down.

"Will you throw down?" Holly asked, gesturing wildly. I had to admit she had some moves. "With me?"

"Yes!" I shouted, flipping over everyone and spinning perfectly onto the ceiling, then hopping gracefully down onto the disco ball that hung over the room. I took a moment, taking in the splendor of the glittering lights offset from the ball I was hanging from somehow, and breathed in its music. It had a silent music, which only I could sense, being someone whose calling was dance. Then I was on the floor, no longer wearing whatever I had been wearing before, but now wearing a wonderful dancing dress that accentuated my curves modestly but still allowed me to move without many restraints.

"Get ready!" Holly said, and spun awkwardly around. Was this a mockery of dance? I wouldn't accept it. "For this!"

I interrupted her turn by snapping my fingers, and the walls of the club melted away to show that we were and had been in space, but the sheer majesty of my dance had willed the air and gravity to remain constant. Stars and cosmos warped around us, masters of the dance combat. I pirouetted and did a handstand. She jumped to the left. It was a clash of the gods.

My jazz-ballet hybrid was powered up by an exploding supernova that rushed past; her Jew dancing created eighteen black holes, which consumed each other to become a super black hole, which consumed itself. I smirked at her folly and tumble-rolled into position.

Then, Andrew was there as I came up, preparing for my killing blow, but his hand on my shoulder stopped me from eradicating this horrible, excellent Jewish rival. It would have been the perfect murder, but instead it was the perfect boyfriend. "We need to break up," he said. "I can't have you trying to manipulate my life anymore."

Xandra had to stand to stop the bedlam. Tens of thousands of people were at the gate now, demanding that the story be kept on its tracks as the wedding participants were going insane and making too much noise for everyone around the world to hear. "Relax!" she said softly, smiling again to cause the sun to remind all the lonesome, imperfect humans that such love could still exist even if Xandra had to break up with Andrew once or twice or more. "We're _married_ now."


End file.
